Into the Fire
by Argenteus Draco
Summary: Playing with fire can lead to serious burns. After James and Lily create a magical flame, James suddenly finds the experiment has gone wrong, and in his eagerness to destroy their attempt, finds himself thrown forward in time, to a most unexpected meeting
1. Chapter One

**Into the Fire**

_by Argenteus Draco_

Chapter One

* * *

"_Professor, you've got to believe me. Why would I make something like this up?"_

_"We aren't accusing you of lying, James--"_

_"But you don't believe me."_

_Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged a glance before returning their gaze to the skinny, black-haired boy standing in front of them. The headmaster sighed, his mind sweeping over the possibilities, none of which were very plausible._

_"Alright James, why don't you tell us again what happened."_

* * *

"Mr. Potter!" Harry looked up from the snitch he had been absentmindedly doodling on his charms notes. "Perhaps you would care to correctly demonstrate a summoning charm?"

Harry, thrown slightly off guard by being caught daydreaming, summoned the correct item, but then lost control of it halfway across the room, causing the book to veer off course and smack Lavender Brown in the shoulder. Now thoroughly embarrassed, Harry looked sheepishly up at Professor Flitwick. "Sorry, Professor," he murmured. "Would you like me to try again?"

"No, no," the tiny man replied in his usual, high-pitched squeak. "But I am going to ask you to review your form as part of your homework. I will test you – and the rest of the class – on Friday." A bell rang, signaling the end of classes. "That's it, don't forget to read--" Whatever else he'd assigned was lost as the class piled noisily into the hallways.

"Looks like we've got some free time before double potions," Ron said, consulting his schedule. "I think I'm going to head outside, get a breath of fresh air. You coming Harry?"

"Nah," he replied. "You and Hermione go. I'm going to run up to the library, see if I can find that book from last year, the one that had all the little tips in it for charms inflections. Maybe if I re-read it I'll be able to summon things again."

Hermione grinned at him. "Good for you, taking your work so seriously." Ron pretended to gag behind her. "If you don't mind, while you're up there, do you think you could grab a book for me? I'm afraid I left my copy of Hogwarts: A History at home."

Harry laughed. "You mean you haven't memorized it yet?"

* * *

_"Potions. Why, of all subjects, do we have to have double potions?"_

_"I like potions," Lily replied, a bit indignant._

_"Of course you like it," retorted James. "You're good at it."_

_Lily sniffed. "You could be good at it too, if you bothered to pay attention."_

_"Oh yeah, and sucked up to Slughorn," Sirius countered._

_"I am not a suck up."_

_"Not on purpose."_

_"But you can't deny it helps," Remus added._

_Lily straightened herself up, adjusted her hold on her books, and walked determinedly faster than the rest of the group as they descended the dark stairs into the dungeons. Sirius watched her go with a slightly confused, slightly dumbfounded look._

_"Don't know what you see in her, buddy."_

_James flushed a little. "I see a determined young witch who's smart, and pretty, and knows it."_

_Sirius snorted. "Well, I see someone who might as well be in Slytherin."_

_James wasn't listening. "Have you looked at her eyes? I mean, really looked? They're so clear, and expressive, and--"_

_"Green," Sirius finished for him. "Like emeralds. And that's what you got her for her birthday. I know, mate."_

_James looked at his three friends. "Said that once or twice before, have I?"_

_"James," Remus clapped him on the shoulder, "if you said it any more often, she'd know it by heart too."_

_James suddenly turned a shade paler. "You don't think she knows, do you?"_

_Remus and Sirius exchanged a look, and laughed. "No. If she thought you liked her like that, I think she'd have run away screaming a long time ago."_

* * *

Harry browsed the shelves in the library distractedly. He'd found the books already, and checked them out with Madam Pince, but with ten minutes still standing between him and Professor Snape, he felt no need to leave the library immediately. Maybe, he thought to himself as he pulled down a copy of Magical Fires: Seven Colors Every Wizard Should Know, Hermione was right, and there was something to this whole find-peace-in-books thing.

He sneezed as the dust from the old pages floated upwards in little clouds. Then, as if one noise had triggered the other to end his moment of tranquility, the bell rang again, and Harry had to drop the book onto the nearest table and hurry from the library, knowing he was about to be late for Potions. That would mean his second detention of the year, and he hadn't even been back for a full week.

He was so preoccupied with his own thoughts, he didn't see Malfoy as he ran out into the hallway, and coincidentally straight into the blond boy so that both of them fell to the floor.

"Watch where you're going, Potter!" Malfoy spat, standing up and starting to collect his books. "I aught to take house points away for this. In fact, I think I will. Five points from Gryffindor."

Harry glared as stood up as well. He wished, vainly, that he'd been a prefect as well, so that he could take points from Malfoy. But, as he couldn't do that, he would simply have to settle himself with aggravating Malfoy as much as possible. And – the thought actually made him smile – if he was going to be late for potions, so was Malfoy.

"So sorry," Harry murmured just loud enough to be heard, "but it's just so hard to see ferrets scurrying through the halls."

"Ten points from Gryffindor, and I'll see you get detention for being so snotty."

Harry just smirked as he formulated his response.

* * *

_James was washing out the cauldron while Slughorn appraised his and Sirius' potion sample. It was thin and a pale lavender color, not at all like it was supposed to be. The Professor sighed and continued on to the next bottle, which was, of course, perfect._

_"Lily Evans," he said, and the red-haired girl looked up from her note taking. "Take ten points for Gryffindor for this excellent example of a growth potion. If you'll all gather around, you'll see the green bubbles forming. Now, who can tell me why the bubbles form green when the potion is blue?"_

_James didn't bother circling around with the rest of the class. There was a particularly sticky mass at the bottom on his cauldron that was refusing to be scrubbed out, and James was beginning to become irritated._

_"Stupid Lily, always has to be perfect," he muttered under his breath. "You'd think, just once, she could help me avoid this."_

_"Well, since I don't really know what 'this' is, it would be rather hard to have prevented it," said a faintly too-happy voice over his shoulder. "But I'll be happy to help clean it out." Lily poured a little of a strange, clear substance into the bottom on the cauldron, which immediately diluted the mass and left James with a clear cauldron he needed only to rinse and wipe out._

_"Thanks," he murmured, slightly embarrassed and glad that she wouldn't see his flushing face in the dark light._

_"Not a problem. Besides, I was kind of hoping I might have your help with something later tonight."_

_James' curiosity was peaked. "What do you need?"_

_"I can't tell you here." Now she definitely had his attention. "Just meet me tonight, in the library, say nine o'clock. And," she cast a look at where Sirius, Remus and Peter stood around Slughorn's desk. "Come alone."_

* * *

_James arrived in the library at nine as promised. He'd invented a story for the others – something about studying, which he figured was just unbelievable enough that they'd accept it – and left the common room under his invisibility cloak; unlike prefects Remus and Lily, he was not allowed out of the common room after hours._

_Lily was right where she'd said she'd be, reading at a table in the farthest corner from the door. James wondered vaguely whether her absence would go unnoticed as well, or if someone might come to the conclusion that she and James were off snogging together. Well, it wouldn't be an entirely unwelcome scenario, at least not as far as James was concerned._

_Still, he couldn't help risking his chances for that by trying to frighten her. She was so absorbed in her book that she didn't notice at all as he snuck up behind her and grabbed her shoulders. She gave a short little yelp – thankfully not enough to summon the librarian, and stared around frightened for a few seconds before James took off his cloak._

_Lily glared at him. "Always have to be the prankster, don't you?" James nodded, ready for her backlash, and surprised when instead her face softened, and she instead replied, "I suppose it's one of your endearing qualities." She turned back to her book, which she handed to James. "Don't suppose you've ever heard of this particular branch of magic, huh?"_

_James read the title. Magical Fires: Seven Colors Every Wizard Should Know. "I know about Floo Powder," he said. "Turns the fire green, lets you travel through a predetermined network, but not outside it." He turned the pages, moving illustrations of people conjuring all manner of colors and jumping into the flames, some with less than pleasant results. "Ugh, causes temporary disembodiment of the spirit… Lily, why do you want to know about this?"_

_"Because this one," she flipped to a page highlighting a small flame the color of amber, "will give anyone who touches it the ability to work magic." She paused for a moment. "I want it for a my sister."_

_James just stared at her. He'd met Petunia Evans once, when the family had picked Lily up at Kings Cross the year before. He knew the older girl was immensely jealous of her younger sister. He also knew that Lily had a notion in her head that if Petunia could join her at Hogwarts, the relationship they'd once had would be mended._

_"I don't know Lily," he replied. "This is way beyond the magic fifth years should be handling."_

_"I don't care," she said, and for the first time, the determination in Lily's eyes frightened James. "I know we can do this, I've read the whole chapter over, and I've already created the powder; it's just a simple potion, dried out. And you know I've never messed up a potion. I just need someone to help me with the charm."_

_James sighed, and looked at the tiny candle flame in the picture. Even if they couldn't make it work, how much danger did that little flame actually pose? He nodded. "Alright," he muttered. "Let's try."_

_Lily grinned and threw her arms around him, and then started searching her bag for the powder she'd made earlier that week. "Thank you, James, I knew you'd understand. You're the only one who could help me, really, seeing as you're the best at Charms in our year." James blushed a little at the flattery, and returned his attention to the book so he could practice the incantation._

_When he was satisfied he'd gotten it right, he put the book down onto the table and looked at Lily. She was holding a bag of shimmering white powder, a pinch of which she'd taken into her fingers and prepared to throw over the flame. For a second, she looked apprehensive._

_"So I just, toss it over, yeah?"_

_"Looks that way to me," James said. "And as soon as it ignites, I say the incantation, and, hopefully, we have magic fire."_

_Lily breathed deeply. "Alright, here we go." She threw the powder, which sparked and crackled, and James had to raise his voice above the noise to make his incantation audible. For a moment, nothing happened, but then the flame on the candle turned blue, and all the little flecks of powder on the table started to ignite as well._

_"Oh God, Lily, I knew this was a bad idea," James said, as he watched the flames dance over the wood, though seemingly not burning anything._

_"James, no!" Lily shouted just a moment too late. James had attempted to beat down the flames, and as soon he had, found himself being engulfed in the turquoise fire. He thought he saw Lily run away, but he wasn't sure; the color was so intense he couldn't see much of anything actually._

_Then, as suddenly as it had all began, the noise, heat, and color stopped. He blinked several times, adjusting to the new light, and found himself staring down at the troublesome book. "Bugger," he said, and shoved it off the table. He glanced around – Lily was no-where in sight. "Must have run for a teacher. Better go tell her I'm alright," he said to no one in particular._

_But he wasn't alright, he realized suddenly. He couldn't be, because he knew it had been dark when he'd met Lily in the library, and a glance out the window told him it was now well into the afternoon._

_He could hear a pair of voices arguing out in the hallway. Maybe Lily had found someone. As he came within sight of the students, however, he found he was much mistaken. It was Malfoy who was closest to him – although, he was sure he had been taller the last time James had seem him. And the boy across from him… Oh God, there was no way…_

_"Ten points from Gryffindor, and I'll see you get detention for being so snotty."_

_Harry just smirked as he formulated his response. Then, his eyes caught those of the boy standing behind Malfoy, and he dropped his books and stared._

_Something was definitely wrong._


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

James stared at the boy standing in the hallway, and Harry stared right back, both of them oblivious to the Slytherin spluttering in between them.

"What is this? – There can't be – You were over – How are you over there?"

"Malfoy," Harry said, in a voice that was far too calm for the situation.

"What, Potter?"

"Shut up."

"Go away," James said, in the same moment as Harry. Malfoy did one more double take, and then sat down in the middle of the floor in between the other two.

"Mad," he muttered. "I've gone mad."

"No, you haven't," Harry said. "Because if you've gone mad, so have I."

"So I suppose you have an explanation for this."

"I do," Harry responded. "But you're not going to like it."

Malfoy looked at Harry expectantly, but the other boy didn't say anything further. Harry looked at James again – who was now thoroughly confused – and then stared at his shoes. He could come up with only one option.

"Come on," he muttered, not quite sure whom he was addressing, and started walking down the hallway.

"And where, exactly, do you think you're going?"

"To Dumbledore." He looked back, and was relieved when James decided to follow him. Then, a moment later, Malfoy stood up as well.

"Fine," he muttered. "But I'm going too. I am, after all, a prefect. It's my job to report trouble."

"Fine." Harry had just realized that all his books were still lying in the middle of the hallway. He went back to retrieve them, and just as his hand was closing over the spine of Hogwarts: A History, the book slid out of his grasp and flew down the hallway. James caught it with a deft motion and a slight, joking smile.

"You actually read this junk?" he asked, as he handed the book back to Harry.

"No, my friend does."

It was, without a doubt, the most awkward conversation of Harry's life, though James didn't seem quite as affected. In fact, James had just decided that this was really a marvelous joke, and whoever had come up with it deserved his eternal admiration. They walked on in silence while James contemplated who could have pulled this off.

"Erm… licorice wand?" Harry tried, when they reached the gargoyle that blocked the way to Dumbledore's office.

"Chocolate frog?" James added.

"Lemon drop?"

"What's a lemon drop?"

"Muggle sweet. Dumbledore once said he liked them."

"Why's it always a candy?"

"Oh, for God's sake," Malfoy muttered. "It's fizzing wizbee."

The gargoyle jumped aside, and the three boys proceeded up the stairs. The door at the top was open, and Harry let himself in quietly, so as not to disturb the headmaster.

Dumbledore was arranging a collection of silver bottles on his desk, and he didn't even look up when the door clicked shut behind them. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, I do believe you are supposed to be in Potions right now. I hope you haven't been sent up here for fighting," he said gently.

"No, sir," Harry responded, stepping forward slightly. "There's been a… a slight… um… mix-up."

Dumbledore inspected the group fully now, and saw James. "Oh dear."

"Professor," Malfoy's patience was wearing thin, and he was trying very hard to sound respectful. "Would you please explain what is going on?"

"I'm afraid, Mr. Malfoy, that an explanation is currently beyond me. We will need the expertise of your brilliant potions master for that. Would you mind running down and informing Professor Snape that he's needed here?"

James coughed and looked at Dumbledore incredulously. "Wait – Snape?"

Dumbledore ignored James, scribbled a note for Malfoy to take down to the dungeons, and sent the blond boy off before returning his attention to the two nearly identical ebony haired boys in front of him.

"Sir…" Harry ventured, hoping for some sort of explanation.

"You do know, Harry, who you are standing next to?"

"I had a guess," Harry replied, and there was a hint of hopefulness in his voice. "But, it can't be… can it?"

"Excuse me, but would someone like to inform me who I am standing next to?"

James was ignored again, as Dumbledore crossed the room to retrieve a large stone bowl from one of his cabinets. "Come here, both of you." The three gathered around the pensive. The memory inside showed Dumbledore and McGonagall addressing an apparently frustrated James as he attempted to explain his story to them.

Dumbledore sighed. "If I only I had believed you then, perhaps…" He let his sentence hang in mid-air, and Harry and James exchanged a look.

"Do you know, James," the headmaster continued, "what we are looking at?" James shook his head. "This is a pensive, a collection of my memories. Specifically, we are recalling you telling me a very strange story – something about a potion gone awry, and being transported into the future – which I did not believe at the time."

James stared into the bowl. "So… this means…?"

"That you are no longer in your own time, James. And this could prove very dangerous for you."

Realization finally seemed to be setting in. James looked at Dumbledore, looked at the pensive, looked at Harry, cleaned his glasses just to be sure, and then did it all again before he started to pace around the room. "Alright, so just to set the record straight: Lily makes a potion that's supposed to give her sister magic, something goes wrong with the spell, and I'm thrown forward in time. Is that all?"

"Not quite, James," Dumbledore's voice was slightly solemn.

"Bloody brilliant. What else is there?"

Dumbledore opened his mouth to explain, but at that moment the doors opened again, and James turned around to see a very adult Snape enter the room. He blinked several times.

"Just like I remember you," Snape sneered.

James stood up as straight as he could – he'd liked it better when he was taller than Snape. "Doesn't appear that you've changed much either."

"I have changed," Snape relied. "But you, I see, are still as insubordinate as always, still as arrogant, still–"

"Might I remind you, Severus, that among your other changes, you are now a Professor, and no longer a schoolboy?" Dumbledore's voice was calm but threaded with tension. "It seems a potion is what got James into this mess. He will need your aide to get himself out."

"I do not need his help," James muttered under his breath.

"I am afraid, James, that you do. Professor Snape is among the most skilled potions masters in Britain; if anyone can find a way to send you back, he can."

"Why not just find Lily? She brewed the potion in the first place."

There was an awkward silence. Finally, Dumbledore said: "Professor Snape is here, and we must begin work immediately. We will begin, James, by recounting everything you know about Lily's potion and it's effects."

James sighed, but did as he was told. When he finished, Snape shook his head. "I'm familiar with the book. Slughorn had mentioned it once in passing, though I don't know how Miss Evans could have attained it, considering the spells and recipes it contains are well beyond the level of a fifth year student."

"Do you know," Dumbledore asked, "a way to send him back?"

Snape nodded. "Of course; the counter-spell is a part of the same book. Although I'm afraid the potion will take some months to brew correctly. And, of course, success depends upon the skill of the spell caster, which must be James."

"I got myself here, didn't I?" James said.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, and, in an attempt to make the mood light again, added: "A feat for which I will award five points to Gryffindor."

James grinned; Snape scowled. "Headmaster, surely you don't suggest–"

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling. "You said yourself, Severus, that the required potion will take months. And James must complete his fifth year some way. Therefore, he must be a student here. And as a student here, he is allowed to earn house points."

Snape's face took on an even more sour expression. "Of course. Are we finished, Headmaster? I must return to my class."

"Yes, of course, Severus. Although you will have to excuse Harry for the day; I'm afraid I still need these two a moment longer."

Snape nodded and swept out of the room. Dumbledore turned back to the boys. "Do not assume, James, that you have gotten off free from this. I shall inform Minerva that you will have detention with her this evening for practicing unauthorized spells."

James hung his head, though Harry suspected he didn't really feel guilty.

"And James, you must tell no one who you are."

At this, James looked up, confused. "Why can't I – oh," he said. "I get it. This is my future; people know I'm not fifteen anymore."

"Exactly. So, you will tell anyone who asks that you are David Ayers, a home schooled wizard of Old Blood who has recently found that he wishes to know the outside world. I will announce your presence to the school tonight."

"Professor," Harry asked, speaking for the first time since he'd been sure of who James really was, "don't you think people will find it odd that we kind of look the same?"

"Some coincidence, don't you think?" James added.

"Coincidence abounds at Hogwarts," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling. "I'd have thought the two of you would know that by now." A clock chimed somewhere, and the Headmaster smiled gently. "Now, I do believe it's almost time for lunch. Go on, both of you."

They crossed the room and Harry pulled the doors open. "And James…" They looked back. "Do try to keep out of trouble."


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

"Is this why you missed Potions?" Hermione asked. "Because it was really important today. We were brewing a--"

"Yes, but Hermione, making up a lesson is the least of my problems right now." Harry indicated James, who was currently shooting little sparks out the end of his wand absentmindedly, trying to appear as though he was indifferent to the frazzled boy who'd dragged him out of the Great Hall and into an abandoned classroom before he could eat lunch.

"Harry, is that--?" Harry nodded. Ron's jaw dropped and Hermione put a hand over her mouth.

"Oh, Harry…" she looked like she was about to throw her arms around him in what she thought would be comfort, so Harry cut her off quickly before she could.

"Look, you can't say anything. No one else is supposed to know." They both nodded.

"So, erm, what do we call him?" Ron asked.

"David," Harry said. "David… erm, something with an 'a'…"

"Ayers," James supplied, looking as though the name left a bad taste on his tongue. "Don't see why I can't just be David Potter though…"

"People would think we were related."

"Well, we are, aren't we?" Harry was dumbfounded. James twirled his wand a final time, stuck it behind his ear, and jumped up to sit on the nearest desk. "I'm not stupid, you know. You responded to the name Potter. And there aren't that many wizarding Potters in Britain. So," he leaned forward, resting his chin on his fists and his elbows on his knees, "how about you do a little explaining now."

Harry suddenly became very interested in his shoes. "It's a little more complicated than you think."

"Try me."

"Harry's right, James," Hermione said quietly. "Whatever we tell you now will effect your future, and that could change our past."

Harry looked up at Hermione gratefully. Trust her to always have a cool head and a rational explanation.

James continued to stare at her evenly. Then, all of a sudden, his angry expression changed to a grin and jumped off the desk. "Alright, I get it. So can we go back to the Hall and eat now?"

Ron opened the door without another word, and he and James set off down the staircase. Hermione, rolling her eyes, followed them at a brisk walk, but Harry hung back a few steps. He had a nasty suspicion that James was plotting something.

* * *

The next morning, Harry understood. A school owl landed in front of James and held out its leg. James took the letter and scowled.

"No reply?" he muttered. "But Lily always replies right away."

Harry nearly choked on his toast. "You tried to send M—Lily, a letter?"

"Yeah, and it's not like her to leave them unanswered." He sighed. "I guess she's just busy now; probably has a family." His eyes darkened a little, and Harry nearly knocked over his pumpkin juice. "It's alright though. I'll just wait for Sirius'."

"You contacted Sirius too?"

James looked sideways at Harry. "Yeah. Why?"

"Hey, Harry!" It was the twins, and Harry had never been more grateful for one of Fred and George's interruptions. "Is this the new kid?"

"David Ayers," James replied, shaking each hand in turn. Harry, at least, was glad James seemed to be adapting to his new role.

"Fred--"

"--and George. Or--"

"--as some like to call us--"

"--Gred--"

"--and Forge."

"Care for something from the snackbox?"

James was selecting a candy when Hermione and Ron entered the Hall. "Oh, seriously, you two, can't you lay off with the pranks?"

"Pranks?" James was suddenly very interested.

Harry gave his seat to George while Fred slid in on James' right, and the twins set off explaining their plans. Harry, meanwhile, pulled Ron and Hermione aside before they sat down.

"I'll meet you in Transfiguration," he muttered. "I have to send a letter."

Hermione looked confused; Harry shook his head. "I'll explain later. Just… I don't know. Don't let them give him any ideas."

* * *

Harry was already composing his letter in his head, but everything he thought of sounded ridiculous. "Hi Sirius, we've had a slight problem and now a fifteen year old James is running around Hogwarts. Yes, that's right, the James you were friends with. My father. The one who's dead."

Yeah, definitely scratch that last thought.

He finally decided on a simple, direct approach. "Dear Sirius. I don't mean to scare you, but there's been an accident here at Hogwarts. Not with me, though; with James (and it feels really weird calling him that). Maybe you remember him telling you when you were in school, but somehow he's been transported to our time. And he's a little upset, because we've sort of left some of the details out when we've told him things. I don't know if it's gotten to you already, but he sent you a letter, probably asking a lot of questions. But Dumbledore doesn't feel it's safe to give him the answers. And, I mean, I'm not even sure I'd know how to answer them anyway."

He didn't really know why he included that last part, but it seemed important. The bell rang somewhere above him, and he hastily signed the letter and gave it to Hedwig.

He arrived back at the classroom just before McGonagall closed the door. "Where'd you go?" James asked.

"Left my homework upstairs," Harry replied.

James didn't look convinced. He linked his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his seat, and watched McGonagall semi-attentively while she began the lecture. He'd stuck his wand behind his ear again, and soon he was staring out the window. Harry, too, found his attention wandering… what use was there, really, in turning a teacup into a candle?

"Mr. Potter!" Harry jerked back into reality. Unfortunately, so did James. A few people cast him confused glances, and McGonagall, who had lectured him the night before about the importance of keeping his guise as David, glared.

"Sorry," James said smoothly. "There was something shiny over your head. It attracted my attention."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Well, you might try paying a bit more attention. Both of you."

"But professor, I am paying attention." And, to everyone's surprise, James held up a full page of notes. McGonagall narrowed her eyes.

"Mr. Ayers, wandless magic is, as you know, frowned upon in this school."

"My apologies," James replied, though he didn't look sorry at all. "I'll continue taking notes by hand." But, rather than pick up his quill, James tapped his parchment with his wand, and the next note – no wandless magic – appeared in a neat cursive.

And Harry realized, with a sinking feeling, that James really was just as arrogant as Snape had always described him.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Monday morning dawned cold and rainy, and the two owls that landed in front of James and Harry were soaked from their journey. Hedwig nipped Harry's finger affectionately as he took the little note from her leg, but his attention was on James as the boy read his own letter.

"Don't know why you couldn't just tell me that," James said, shaking his head and grabbing a piece of toast. "I mean, big deal if we're third cousins."

Harry did his best to contain his sigh of relief. Quietly munching on his own breakfast, he turned his attention back to his letter.

"Dear Harry, I've done my best not to let anything too important slip to James. His father had a cousin who was a Squib; I've told James you're related through him. Not likely, but he'll believe it. As for his own history, I've told him he has a Ministry job and a small family, but all too young to be attending Hogwarts. I must warn you, however, that I did not mention Remus or Peter at all, and it will probably be in your best interest to not bring up the latter. James may never have liked Peter much, but he was always fiercely protective. Try not to be so hard on him, Harry. Yours sincerely, Snuffles."

"Snuffles? Wow, I thought my friends had funny nicknames--"

Harry hastily folded up the letter before James could read anymore of it, and turned his attention back to his breakfast.

"So what do we have today?" James asked.

"Double potions, then that Umbitch woman again--" Hermione elbowed Ron sharply in the ribs.

"Honestly, Ron, I don't like her any more than you do, but she's still a teacher."

James looked up. "Never stopped me from being obnoxious."

Hermione gave him one of her disapproving looks. "Can't you just try -- for one day -- to be a good student?"

"Only if you promise to try to stop being a persistent know-it-all."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but seemed to think better of it, and instead picked up her books and said, "I'm going to the library. I'll see you in class."

James watched her go. "Well, I suppose there's one in every year. I've got a classmate who's the same way, but at least she's pretty enough that it's worth putting up with her."

Ron nodded as though he understood.

Harry, meanwhile was very seriously contemplating working with Hermione during Potions. He could already tell it was going to be rough. He might as well work with someone who knew what was going on.

* * *

James lounged indifferently in his seat while Snape wrote the instructions for the day's potion on the board. Every once in a while one of the Slytherins – who had not yet had class with the new student – would turn around, look at him, and whisper something to their neighbor. Malfoy in particular kept glancing between James and Harry, the latter of whom had a sinking suspicion that Malfoy was beginning to piece things together while the former continued drawing strange, elongated flowers over his parchment.

"What is that," Harry finally asked, as James scribbled out his fifth attempt.

"It's supposed to be a lily. I've been practicing for ages."

"Perhaps," a cold voice behind them murmured, "you might consider practicing your potion brewing skills, being that this is what you are in class for."

Harry reddened and returned to counting out his lacewings. James, however, looked up at Snape and returned his stare evenly. "Well, perhaps you might consider giving us some actual instruction, being that this is what you are in class for."

The class immediately fell into dead silence. James smirked, apparently proud of the reaction he'd drawn, and very carefully and neatly sliced the asphodel he was working with. "Of course, my father was a Potions Master as well, and he's already taught me all the proper techniques. I suppose I'm just lucky, growing up the way I did."

Harry personally felt that James was taking his act as David just a little too far.

"It must be much more difficult, having a muggle father and all--"

The class drew a collective gasp as Snape suddenly lunged forward, grabbed James by the collar, and pulled him up so that his face was mere inches from the boy's ear. "You forget your place, Mr. Ayers," he hissed, putting a particular amount of venom behind the false name.

James' voice has gone icy as well. "And you forget yours. A teacher fighting with a student. I can only imagine what my father would say. Or Professor Dumbledore, for that matter."

Snape dropped James as though he were some particularly vile and slimy substance. "Detention tonight, with me, at eight o'clock sharp. A minute late, and you'll be wishing you'd never come here. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, sir." And James went back to drawing lilies on his paper.

Snape turned back to the rest of the class. "Resume your work," he snapped. He looked so livid, not even the Slytherins thought it wise to disobey.

When a few moments had passed in which the only sounds were coming from simmering cauldrons, Ron leaned over and whispered to Harry, "He sounds like Malfoy, calling on his father and all that nonsense."

Harry put his head in his hands. "I know, Ron," he muttered through his fingers. "And I can't believe it either."

His friend gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder and started to reply, but quickly shut his mouth again as Snape passed their workstation.

* * *

No one had ever been so thrilled to hear the bell ring at the end of the lesson. While he'd been checking their potions at the end of the class, Snape had still been so angry that he'd deducted twenty house points from Gryffindor and handed out three more detentions, one of them to Vincent Crabbe. Granted, Crabbe's potion had been dismal, but never in anyone's memory had Snape given detention to a member of his own house.

All in all, it made for very exciting talk during lunch, as the entirety of the school seemed determined to discuss the new student daring enough to cross Snape.

"Nothing more satisfying than a job well done," James said as they made their way up to the Defense classroom.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, and even Harry had to agree that it was getting a bit ridiculous. Not that it stopped Ron from discussing it excitedly.

"—'Cause no one's ever had the guts to talk to him like that."

"Why? He's no different than any other teacher."

Ron scoffed. "Easy for you to say. You knew him when—"

Harry elbowed him in the side.

"Ow—Was that necessary, Harry?"

Harry looked pointedly at Seamus and Dean, who had stopped to listen to the conversation. Both of them were now looking at Harry and Ron with raised eyebrows.

"I knew Snape when I was growing up," James said smoothly. "He was studying something with my father."

James gave a little mock bow as Seamus and Dean walked away. "It's so nice to be a master story-teller. I, of course, have been practicing and perfecting my craft for many years, but one day you two could be just as good as I--"

"Oh, please." Hermione stopped in front of James and glared, arms folded across her chest. "Do you honestly believe you can talk yourself out of anything?"

"Yeah," James replied, after pretending to think for a minute.

"And you don't think that one day your lies are going to get so complicated that you don't remember all the details you've made up?"

"Ah, but my dear," he said, smiling sweetly, "That is why we Masters must learn to think on our feet."

Hermione rolled her eyes and stormed off down the hallway.

"Is she always like this?" James asked.

"You have no idea."

* * *

To Harry's immense relief, Defense Against the Dark Arts went off without a hitch. In fact, Umbridge seemed to have taken a liking to the new student. This probably would have disturbed Harry had he not been so relieved to have escaped without another detention. He said as much to James during dinner, but the other boy just shook his head.

"What's a detention except an excuse to be out of the common room after hours? Speaking of which," he glanced down at his watch, "I should begin my trek down into the dungeons. You know how Snape abhors lateness." He made a show of leaving the table, looking for all the world as though he were going to the gallows. A few girls sighed as he walked past them.

"New kid stealing all your admirers?" Seamus asked, as Harry dropped his head into his hands again.

"He can have them," Harry replied.

Hermione gave him a concerned look. "Harry, do you want to talk about--?"

"No." He felt bad as soon as he'd snapped, but he let the feeling slide. "I'm finished. I'm going upstairs."

* * *

She cornered him again that night in the common room, where he was attempting to concentrate on Snape's essay. "Harry, you're upset. We all see it, we just want to know why." She paused. "I won't tell anyone, if you don't want me too."

"Thanks. Well, I guess Ron has a right to know, but I'll talk to him, I promise."

He glanced around the room while Hermione waited patiently for him to continue. Finally, he looked at her, and sighed. "It's just… he's not really what I expected, you know?"

"You wanted him to be your father."

Harry lowered his voice, though it wasn't necessary with all the noise around them. "Not exactly. I mean, I didn't expect him to… know me, or anything. I guess I just wanted him to be more… I don't know."

"Exemplary," Hermione supplied. Harry raised his eyebrows. "Well, he isn't exactly a model student."

Harry laughed at that. "Guess now we know where I get it from."

"Get what from?" Right on cue, James had appeared behind them. He was sporting a vivid bruise around his left eye.

"What happened?" Hermione asked.

"Don't suppose you'd believe me if I said Snape beat us, would you?" Hermione glared. "Didn't think so. No, I started the fight. See, Snape had us brewing healing potions, and I thought it would make the lesson so much more interesting if we could test them out. I got the one that oaf from Slytherin brewed, and it didn't work at all."

"I could heal it, if you'd like," Hermione offered.

"What?" He seemed horrified by the very idea. "Heal away this badge of honor?"

"That's not a badge of honor, it's a bruise, and it's going to swell. Now do you want me to heal it, or not?"

"I'm afraid of Healers," James said, as though this were perfectly natural. "Would you let me hold your hand while you worked?"

Hermione blushed furiously, jammed her wand at James' cheek, muttered the spell, and then stormed up to the girl's dormitories.

Harry couldn't help it; he laughed.

And then something occurred to him. "You've been flirting with her."

"I flirt with everyone," James replied, taking Hermione's seat on the couch. "Well, all the girls, anyway."

"But, Hermione especially," Harry persisted.

James just shook his head. "Nah, you can have her, mate. She's too high maintenance for me. Besides," he reached for Harry's charms text and began to read the assigned chapter. "I like red-heads."

* * *

_I know, I know, it's been way too long since I've updated this story. I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks to those of you who - in this timespan between chapters - have continued to read, review, and add my story to your favorites. It's really special when I get those emails, because I feel like I've really written something worth reading. Thank you again, and I'll try not to get so stuck on the next chapter._


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

By the end of the week the rumors were flying all around the school, and Ron was finally forced to confront James at breakfast.

"You kissing my sister?" he demanded.

"You have a sister?" James asked, without looking up from his eggs.

"Everyone's saying that you've been going after red-heads--"

James cut him off. "I'm sorry, but you're really not my type."

"You're avoiding the topic!"

"Will you stop shouting at me?" James sighed. "Look, I'm not snogging your sister. I think the twins would kill me. And yes, I'm afraid of them. I like a prank as much as the next guy, but some of their experimental stuff is downright dangerous. Now will you sit down? I hate having to stare up at you like that."

Ron finally sank into his seat, looking incredibly relieved as he started to pile food onto his plate. Hermione beamed at James.

"Finally agreeing to see things sensibly?"

"For you, dear," he replied off-handedly, "anything."

Hermione merely rolled her eyes in reply.

"Well, I'm off," James announced a few moments later. "Quidditch tryouts, gotta go get my broom. I'll see you guys later." He waved as he left the Great Hall.

Ron looked upwards, apparently lost in thought. "I'd forgotten about that. Still reckon I should go, Harry?" Pause. "Erm, Harry? You okay, mate?"

Harry – who had been staring straight ahead unblinkingly – suddenly dropped his head into his hands and began mumbling. "Why – _why?_ – did I have to turn out so like him?" He looked up to meet Ron and Hermione's confused stares. "He played Seeker," he finished, with an obvious grimace.

Neither of them seemed quite as bothered by this information as Harry himself: Hermione quirked an eyebrow, and Ron just said, "Yeah, well, Angelina will tell him she doesn't have a place for him, is all."

Harry shook his head. "You know it won't be that simple."

* * *

When Harry finally made it down to the Quidditch Pitch, he found that James was already arguing with Angelina. She sighed, exasperated, and motioned Harry over.

"Look, I want you two to fly against each other. It'll be good practice, at any rate. But I'm not making any promises," she finished, looking at James again before she stalked away to speak to the would-be Keepers.

James huffed. "I've been on the team since my second year. Of course, I can't tell her that, not with this story Dumbledore's got me under." He seemed completely unaware of the fact that Harry didn't want to listen to this. "And this broom's brand new – I'm not leaving it in my trunk all year."

Harry looked up from the process of buckling his Quidditch gloves. James' "brand new" broomstick (which had been in a trunk that Dumbledore had somehow managed to retrieve) was a Comet Two-Forty, top of the line at its time. He very nearly laughed as he mounted his Firebolt. James stared at him as he kicked off.

"Harry, David, I'm letting the snitch out!" Angelina called, before she too rose into the sky.

James rocketed in the direction of the crate, but Harry stayed where he was; he'd spot the snitch eventually. Yeah, James had already lost sight of it, and was now floating lazily around the goal posts.

Stupid, Harry thought. That's where the Bludgers usually are. He shook his head, glad that he hadn't been trained in that particular strategy – he had enough trouble with accidents as it was, he certainly didn't need to go asking for them.

James suddenly zoomed off to the other side, but following his path, Harry could tell he hadn't actually seen anything. He sighed and rose a little higher, watching the Keeper tryouts. Ron wasn't doing too bad, actually…

"Hey, are you even going to try to pay attention?"

James was hovering directly below him, and Harry had to lean over his broom to reply. "Is that what you're doing then? Flying off, trying to deceive me, when the snitch could very well be floating around your knee?"

James snorted and flew away again. He made a very flashy show of weaving between Katie and Alicia, which earned him nothing more than a disapproving glare from Angelina, before streaking down the field again.

But it didn't matter – Harry had already seen the snitch flitting around the stands on the south side of the pitch. He raced after it, vaguely aware of James swearing behind him, and reached for the tiny, fluttering ball.

He looked back, met James' angry hazel gaze, shrugged, and let the snitch go again. It flew a circle around his head before disappearing. Harry flew in the direction it had gone, searching the stadium for the telltale hint of gold.

"Hey" James had drifted up beside him again. "How come your broom's so fast?"

Unable to think up a suitable answer, Harry shrugged. James mumbled something about fairness in the future and put on a little more speed. Harry did his best to ignore him – after all, this was competition, and James certainly wasn't taking it lightly. He turned slowly, and finally caught sight of the snitch again at the base of the goal posts. He dove, and James, upon seeing this, raced up the field as fast as he could. The snitch darted in his direction… he was closer, it was going to be his this time…

But Harry pulled a hairpin turn and caught it a second before James, who barely looked up in time to avoid barreling into him.

* * *

When they finally landed a half hour later, James was incredibly moody. True, he'd caught the snitch once while Harry had been dodging a particularly persistent bludger, and Fred had told him that he was the only person to ever beat Harry to the snitch, but that didn't improve the fact that he'd lost.

He didn't stay to hear Angelina announce who'd been picked as Keeper. Moving through the courtyard alone was incredibly odd, though. Usually, he had people jumping up on either side to follow him, ask him for the latest gossip. He didn't like the way people kept turning their heads away from him, as though he were entirely uninteresting.

Then, all of sudden, someone fell into step with him. He looked up, and scowled. It was Malfoy.

"I've decided anyone who challenges Potter is a friend of mine," he drawled, stepping to stand in front of James. "But I have to wonder about the state of your mind when you chose to do so on a Comet Two-Forty."

"My Comet's great," James said acidly, as though the insult to the broom where an insult to him personally. "It's just not as fast as his."

Draco scoffed. "A collector's piece. But even my Nimbus 2001 can't keep pace with a Firebolt."

James couldn't help it; he stared. A two-thousand-and-one? The last Nimbus he knew of was the fifteen-hundred, and his Comet was faster than that.

Something of his shock must have shown on his face, because Draco suddenly broke into an evil smile. "They haven't told you anything, have they?"

James shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy." He pushed past the blond, but Draco followed him into the castle.

"I'll make a deal with you," he said, grabbing the back of James' robes. "You tell me who you really are, and I'll answer all of your questions."

James narrowed his eyes. He knew he wouldn't have trusted Lucius farther than he could throw him. But then again, another part of his mind reasoned, this wasn't Lucius. And Harry was being awfully evasive about a lot of subjects…

"Alright," he finally said, nodding curtly. He checked behind him; the Gryffindor team was still down on the lawns, they wouldn't see him disappear. "But not here."

Malfoy smirked, and lead the way to one of the dungeon's many unused passages.

* * *

"Hey." Harry poked a lightly dozing Hermione in the shoulder, and she looked up at him, blinking owlishly. "Have you seen James anywhere?"

"Not since he left for tryouts."

Harry swore. "We've been done for hours. You're sure you haven't seen him come back?"

Hermione shook her head. "Have you checked the map?"

Harry swore again; how could he be so stupid to forget that? Oh, right, he'd locked the map at the bottom of his trunk so that James wouldn't accidentally stumble upon it, which had seemed like a truly brilliant idea at the time.

He ran up to his dorm, dug through his trunk, and quickly scanned the parchment for the tiny dot that was James. Finally, he found a label reading "Prongs," and the point that accompanied it pacing in the entrance hall.

Once he'd wiped the map clean and hidden it away again, he took off at a run for the front of the school. "I've been looking all over for you!" Harry called, as he came around the corner and found James still pacing back and forth, muttering furiously to himself. Then, as he took in James' appearance, he asked, in what he hoped was a calmer voice. "What's wrong?"

James stopped, stared at him angrily, and then proceeded to tell Harry everything that Malfoy had told him. By the time he was finished, he was crying.

"James, I'm so sorry," Harry said, but he was too angry himself to finish his thought. Now Malfoy knew…and he obviously hadn't been very kind about any of it. Harry decided he'd have to punch the blond the first chance he got. He would have gone to track him down then, except he had far bigger problems to deal with. At that moment, James slammed his fist against the stone wall, drawing blood from his knuckles, and broke down entirely. Harry went and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"He lied," James muttered.

"No, that's the truth, James. That's why we haven't—"

"You don't understand!" James finally turned and looked at him, and Harry could see the same expression he'd worn when he'd felt Dumbledore and the Order had betrayed him. "Sirius was my best friend. And he lied to me."


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Harry did some of his own explaining on the way back to the Common room, once James had calmed down enough to hear him out. Then they began plotting a slow, painful death for Malfoy. Even if he knew their plans would never be carried out, it made Harry feel a lot better.

James was still obviously upset, though. So Harry did the only thing he could think of, even if part of him did argue that it was a bad idea. When the last person had disappeared back to their dorm room, and Ron and Hermione had stationed themselves in armchairs that gave them good views of both staircases, James drew a small bag of Floo powder from his pocket and threw some over the fire. Then Harry leaned his head in and called Sirius' name.

A moment later, his godfather's head appeared in the grate, wearing a worried expression. "Harry? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Harry replied, drawing back a little. Then, he amended. "Well, nothing with me anyway."

James took the opportunity to kneel down next to Harry, and Sirius' expression turned from one of worry to shock. "James," he murmured, nearly chocking over the name. Harry had the feeling that Sirius was fighting very hard to restrain himself from reaching out to touch him.

"Sirius," James replied, after a moment. "You look good."

"All considering." Sirius managed a smile. "And you. But… you shouldn't–"

"When has that stopped me before?"

Sirius sighed. "Of course. I expect Harry filled you in on the details?"

"About you," James muttered. "And a bit more about me. But… what about Peter?"

Sirius glanced quickly at Harry before he replied. "Disappeared. Haven't seen him in years."

James looked disappointed. "What about Remus?"

"Became a teacher. Just like he always wanted."

"What does he teach?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"He was the best we ever had," Harry added.

Sirius grinned. "I'll tell him you said so. And James, I'll give him your best regards as well. I really aught to go, though. They might be watching the Floo network."

"Wait!" Sirius paused and looked back at James. "Just one more thing. Sirius… what happened to Lily?"

There was an awkward pause. Finally, Harry stood up and walked away, and Sirius told James about her murder.

* * *

Harry was alerted to James' return by the muffled sounds of crying coming from his bed. He got up silently and went to sit next to James, who was hugging his knees to his chest and sobbing into them. 

"She shouldn't have died," he murmured. "She never wanted anything to do with the War. Sirius and I, we knew it was coming. We wanted to rush into it. Glory and honor and all. She just wanted to study, and grow up, have a family…" He broke down again.

"Explains a lot though," he muttered after a while. "Snape being the way he is, and all."

Harry blinked.

"He loved her. Everyone knew it. I guess she wound up with him, and it must have killed him when she died."

The story James had concocted would have been funny if Harry hadn't been processing the fact that instead of being Harry Potter he'd come dangerously close to being Harry Snape. He shuddered.

"Yeah," James murmured sympathetically. "Imagine Snape dating. It's weird no matter how you think of it."

Harry couldn't take it any more. He got up, opened his trunk, and pulled his photo album out of it. "Lumos," he said, illuminating his wand tip so he could show James.

"Hagrid gave me these after my first year. That's Lily," he said, pointing her out in one of the pictures.

James flipped through the pages with interest. Realization seemed to be dawning slowly – maybe it was the late hour making his brain foggy. "That's me, isn't it?" he asked. Harry nodded. "Why do you have these?"

He stopped at a picture of himself, Lily, and a baby. Harry pointed. "Because that," he said, after a deep breath, "is me."

* * *

Living with James became considerably easier after that. Granted, he was still an arrogant prick in most classes, and he was constantly complaining about how unfair it was that Harry had beaten him for the Seeker position, but when he threw something across the room and caused Malfoy's potion to explode, showering him and several nearby Slytherins with green ooze, it all seemed rather worth it. 

Snape held them both back after class. "Mr. Potter, I hope you realize that drawing attention to yourself is not the smartest course of action in your present situation."

James seemed un-phased. "Well, I hope you realize that a certain favorite student of yours is going to be spreading rumors about me as soon as he figures out how to best use the information." James paused, then added. "Which could take him a while. He didn't seem like a particularly bright child."

Harry quickly turned his laughter into a hacking cough. Snape glared at him.

"And you, Mr. Potter, I'm sure you're aware of how close you've come to messing with the time stream."

James snorted. "Look, he answered my questions, and the world didn't explode. Maybe he was supposed to tell me, so that everything would come out the way it did. Never considered that option, did you?"

There was a vein throbbing in Snape's temple. "Get out, before I am forced to take more points from Gryffindor for your outrageous insinuations, Potter."

They ran before Snape could change his mind, laughing all the way back to the Great Hall.

* * *

Whispers had started to spring up by Tuesday afternoon, and by Wednesday the entire castle knew James' true identity. McGonagall was furious with Harry, Ron, Hermione and James for letting it slip, but the "Master Story Teller's" techniques saved them. 

"Malfoy knew all along. He was in the hallway when I first wandered out of the library. He's the one who started telling people, not me."

The best part was, it wasn't a total lie. McGonagall looked at them each long and hard, appraising their honesty, before shooing them out of her office and summoning Malfoy in. They listened at the door long enough to hear that he'd been given detention.

"Excellent," James said as they made their way down to the Great Hall for lunch. "It's always better when it's a prefect getting detention."

"And the fact that it's a Slytherin prefect," Ron added. "makes it just perfect."

"Even I'll admit," Hermione said with a satisfied smile on her face, "it's nice to see him finally get what he deserves for once."

Harry grinned. "Yeah. 'Course, I would have liked to hit him. Or watch you hit him again, Hermione."

"You hit him?" James asked, incredulous. "No. You're far too innocent to do something so mindlessly violent as hit someone."

Hermione smirked. "Want to test me, James?"

"Not particularly, no."

They entered the Great Hall to blatant stares and whispers, but James seemed to take it all in stride.

"Ah," he said, smiling and spreading his arms and motioning to the four house tables, all of which seemed to be looking at James as though for conformation of the rumors they'd heard. "I'm the center of attention. All's right in the world."

* * *

I'd just like to extend a little thank you to all the people who have reviewed and favorited this story so far. Those little email alerts are the reason this story is still being updated. That, and the stubborn side of me is trying really, really hard to actually finish something for once.


	7. Epilogue

**Epilogue – Infinity In Your Hands**

"Father" and son faced each other across the desk in Dumbledore's office. Harry smiled sadly.

"Guess this is goodbye, then."

James just grinned back. "Aww, c'mon Harry. 'Course it's not goodbye. We'll see each other again. You're just going to be very young when we do."

Harry started to mention that although James still had his own future to look forward to, all this had already happened in Harry's past, but then he decided that it simply wasn't worth it. He did not want to remember his last conversation with James as being about the time steam continuum. Instead, he replied, "That's true. But I'm sure it won't be as… interesting… as the last few weeks have been."

"Oh, I'm sure you were a fascinating child… or, will be…"

Fortunately, Harry was spared having to respond to this as Dumbledore knocked softly on the door. "James, are you ready now?"

"Yes, sir."

The door opened, and the elderly wizard's steady blue eyes regarded them for a moment before he said, "Aughtn't you return to class, Harry?"

"Yeah, I suppose." He stuck his hand out to James. "Bye, then."

"I'll be seeing ya."

As Harry walked out, James surreptitiously tucked the folded paper that Harry had passed to him into his pocket.

When the Headmaster turned around again, he had a small vial in his hands. "Do you know how this particular potion came into existence, James?"

He shook his head.

"Its developer was researching the butterfly effect. Change one action, however small, how many different outcomes can you make? That's why the time and place you wind up in is so difficult to control."

"Like Floo powder."

"Yes, but infinitely more complicated." He handed James the vial. "Do not miss your grate, James."

The boy nodded in what he hoped was a wise and serious manner. "I'll do my best, professor."

"That's all we've ever asked, James."

Silently, Dumbledore drew his wand and walked over to the fireplace. James followed, considering his possibilities…

But of course, this was why Dumbledore was performing the actual intricacies of the spell. Infinity in the hands of James Potter was never a good idea.

* * *

_Harry did not return to class; McGonagall would understand. Instead, he walked back to his dorm room and took his photo album from the beside table. One by one, he flipped through the pictures, and finally stopped to stare at the blank page halfway through the book._

_It had been his idea, but he still wondered if he'd done the right thing by giving it to James._

* * *

James fell out of the fireplace in Dumbledore's office with a soft thud. He stood up to brush himself off, and found himself facing a very confused McGonagall and a slightly perplexed-looking Headmaster. 

"Mr. Potter, where are you coming from? Floo travel is forbidden within the school," McGonagall asked sharply.

"Wasn't using Floo powder, ma'am."

Dumbledore fixed James with a steady expression. "Then how, may I ask, did you come to find yourself falling out of my fireplace?"

James screwed his face up in thought. "Forgot the name of the stuff already. But it's not Floo powder. It sent me forward in time."

McGonagall opened her mouth to reprimand him for lying, but Dumbledore spoke first. "Alright, James. Explain."

The dark haired boy brushed the last of the soot off of his clothes, took a deep breath, and began.

* * *

_"Has he gone then?" Ron asked._

_Harry thought the answer was rather obvious, given that the extra bed had disappeared from the dorm room, but he nodded anyway._

_Ron looked uncomfortable. "And are you… alright?"_

_"Ron, when have I ever been 'alright?'"_

_He flipped away from the blank page. On the one hand, he hoped he hadn't screwed anything up too badly. On the other, nothing really seemed to have changed, so he didn't seem to have destroyed the time stream. At least that was a plus._

_"Listen, Hermione was thinking that maybe we could go for a walk outside before class starts again. You wanna come?"_

_Finally, Harry looked up. "No tricks to make me talk about this, right? Just a nice, normal walk?"_

_Ron grinned and put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Harry, when have we ever been normal?"_

* * *

"Professor, you've got to believe me. Why would I make something like this up?" 

"We aren't accusing you of lying, James--"

"But you don't believe me."

Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged a glance before returning their gaze to the skinny, black-haired boy standing in front of them. The headmaster sighed, his mind sweeping over the possibilities, none of which were very plausible.

"Alright James, why don't you tell us again what happened."

James opened his mouth, thought for a second, closed it, and started to dig into his pockets. "I told you the truth the first time," he said, pulling out the crumpled photograph. "And this'll prove it."

He handed it to Professor McGonagall, who gasped slightly as she looked it over. The older James in the picture waved back merrily as she handed it to Dumbledore.

"Very well," the headmaster replied. "I believe you."

James grinned triumphantly.

"But I'm afraid I'm going to have to keep this, James."

"Why?"

"You know your future. But you must be the only one to know." He gave James a rather knowing smile. "I'm afraid I can't risk you showing this to certain others."

James mentally cursed. He knew Dumbledore was referring to Lily. So much for that plan…

As if on cue, the doors opened loudly, admitting a breathless Lily Evans. "Professor, I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean for anything to go wrong, but I talked James into performing a spell for me, and now he's – " She stopped as she took in the scene in front of her. James smirked.

"Standing here…" she finished. "James, what happened?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Enough." Professor McGonagall had regained her voice. "It's well after curfew, you should both be back in the dorms. Go."

They left before she could remember to take points from Gryffindor.

"So really, James," Lily asked as they neared the portrait, "what happened that I wouldn't believe?"

James paused, choosing his words. "If I told you that we were going to grow up, marry each other, and have a little boy named Harry with my hair and your eyes, what would you say?"

Lily quirked an eyebrow at him. "I'd tell you that you were crazy."

"See?"

They'd reached the portrait. James gave the password, then stepped to the side and gave a little mock-bow as Lily climbed through into the common room. He felt a grin creep over his face as he heard her mutter something to the effect of, "Harry's such a silly name. You'd _have_ to be crazy to pick that."

His grin only became larger. _She believes me_, he thought happily. _The future's safe._


End file.
